


Moon River and Me

by markgeollli



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Humor, Kevin and Jacob are music majors, M/M, Wanderlust, travelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 08:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14076792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markgeollli/pseuds/markgeollli
Summary: As the two separate symphonies of Kevin and Jacob play elegantly and robustly amongst the vast sea of university students like that of the keys of a piano and of the strings of a guitar, devoid of any knowledge of the accompanying harmony of their lives, these two musicians meet in a twisted turn of fate on a planned trip across the globe.





	Moon River and Me

**Prologue**

What was the most difficult thing about being a music major, you ask? Well, imagine growing up in an extremely confining culture with expectations higher than the peak of Everest in the Himalayas. It’s legitimately the most difficult thing in this cruel and expectation-filled world and having to conform to the written rules of the textbook of life literally makes me want to jump out of my dorm window.

I’m going to paint you a little scene as I walk to my band class just to get my mind off of things for a moment. I remember telling my mom and dad who are, mind you, absolutely and without a doubt Asian to the core (Korean for you specific hoarding nerds), that I wanted to major in the arts.

“Oh, that’s nice son,” my mother said, her face lighting up. My heart leapt with joy upon hearing her say that my choice of major was “nice.” “The medical arts, right?” She shot me a look, expecting to hear me agree with her. Again, expectations filled the air, as per usual. My smile felt the gravity of the Earth’s downward pull and drooped down into a frown.

“No, mom. Like,” I began. My dad, who was quietly listening to my words, flipped through the newspaper as he sipped his steaming tea. “Like, I want to have a career in music.” My dad coughed and nearly choked on his tea.

“You want to become what?!” he exclaimed loudly. I crossed my arms. “Kevin, we have discussed this. You are going to follow my footsteps and get a degree in the medical field so that you can become a podiatrist!” Why couldn’t I have grown up in another family where it was openly acceptable to want to become a musician. 

“Dad! I’ve told you and mom that I don’t want to become a god-forsaken foot doctor!” My mom shot me a dangerous glare and a hiss that escaped her mouth.

“Your mouth, Kevin!” she hissed. I lived in a religious household and it was difficult at times to keep myself from using His name in vain. The thing was, my parents have driven the passion I now possess for music. They’ve enrolled me in piano lessons and told me to become part of the church band. And I’ve loved playing the piano and singing ever since I was young as much as I love Beyoncé, but more on that later.

So, I was able to get a scholarship to attend the University of British Columbia in Vancouver and took it as an opportunity to pursue my dreams as a musical artist or composer or producer – anything related to music to be quite honest, it was, is, and will always be my passion. I left Van City, left my parents, left them with the impression that I was going to pursue a medical degree to become a smelly podiatrist (this is an exaggeration, my dad isn’t smelly, please don’t quote me), and entered the doors of the U.B.C. for the first time in ‘016 as a freshman about to become a major in music with a minor in tomfoolery because I successfully fooled my parents into thinking that I was going to become a damn foot doctor. In no way, shape, or form was I going to spend an entire four years for a bachelor’s degree in something that did not bring satisfaction to my life and to the person I was working hard to build – let alone a degree expected of me that would have me work as someone who scrapes and attends to the corns and calluses of a multitude of strangers’ feet with a multitude of different gag-inducing smells and odors. And now my friends, the story of my Asian struggle is now embedded into your brains and you're all caught up. Let's continue.


End file.
